by Eden Butler
“The hell you talking about? Everyone has time for women and if they don’t, then they damn well should find the time.”
I shook my head, not bothering to watch him laugh like a fool at my expense. Roan had never had a wife as far as I knew, though the secretaries in the Science Department sure liked to flirt with him. But that was Roan. He’d been a college professor, a scientist his entire adult life. He had no idea what it was like to build something that could go global.
“In case you forgot, I’m trying to build a company…get funding so I can leave Brooklyn and move on up.”
“Okay, Mr. Jefferson,” his laughter still showed up in his tone. It was the first time I’d seen him look so pleased with my worries. “Whatever you say, but just remember, money won’t keep you warm at night and it won’t give you a family.”
“I got a family.”
“A sister you see once maybe twice a year?”
“And you, old man.”
“Ha!” He leaned back, hand over his stomach as though the idea of him being my family was ridiculous. “Then you are in a world of trouble. I’d be a piss poor family member, Nash. You know that.”
But what I’d had of family hadn’t been much better. A father who got drunk and destroyed our lives; aunts and uncles who took care of us because they got a check from the state to do it. I hadn’t seen much in the way of families at all, but what I had, hadn’t impressed me much. “No worse than what I had.”
With a sigh, Roan dropped the teasing smile. He’d never asked for any details on what had gone down between my parents, but I’d told him anyway. I’d probably told him more about my life than anyone else.
He bent forward, elbows on his knees and I swore I could make out what he’d say before he opened his mouth. Roan was wise. He’d lived a life I’d probably never understand and every second of it showed up on his face, in the haunted touch that made his eyes shine. “You can’t keep reliving the past, son. You’ve got to let that go.”
“Easier to say, old man.”
“It’s simple.” He sat up, not smiling, not doing much more than giving me a cool glance that told me he wouldn’t argue with me. “If you want a life, a real good life, you gotta earn it.”
“The hell do you think I’m trying to do?”
“Taking over the world with money isn’t what I mean. Money, hell that comes and goes. You make it, you lose it, but at the end of the day, when you’re old and ornery it’s not money or the things it buys you that will make you happy. It’s the people who are at your side, the ones that are because they are yours and you are theirs. That’s real, Nash. That’s the realest you’ll ever hear from me.” He paused, moving his jaw a little as he watched me and it seemed to me it was Roan’s looks, the things he didn’t have to say that kept me silent. It was his expression and what it told me that kept me quiet. “Your woman, what’s her name?”
“I told you you I don’t…” It was pointless to deny. She might not be mine. She might not be what I told myself I wanted, but Roan could read me. Even if I didn’t admit it, she had infected every part of my life. I didn’t bother lying to him. “Willow. Crazy white chick with hair that goes on forever and ass like you wouldn’t believe.” I took a breath, knowing I couldn’t pretend that was all that drew Willow to me. “She also is funny and weird as hell and I can’t get her out of my head.”
Roan nodded, working his fingers over his beard like he needed a minute to decide what advice to give me. Finally, when he nodded again, some silent decision that seemed to satisfy him, the smile returned to his face. “Good. You go to her and you tell her all the things you think make sense. You tell her you’ll do whatever she wants to keep her. You tell her you’re no good without her.”
“I never said I was sprung.”
The laughter was loud again and I hated that it was me and my miserable life that seemed so funny to him. “Hell, Nash you are. Maybe not bad, but you’re getting there.” Roan stood, slapping me on the shoulder. “There’s worse things in life than been all sprung over a woman.”
“Like?” I asked because I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Roan’s eyes sparkled then, lit with something that brightened his dark skin. “Not being with one at all.”
Nash
The lobby was dark when I finally made it back to our building and the silence, the eerie quiet put me on alert. There were only two people near the elevators, and I might have not noticed anyone at all, except one of them was Willow. Her back was to me, so she hadn't seen me, and I just stood there watching her twist a strand of her chaotic hair around her finger. Then came her laugh, sweet, high pitched, and I noticed with a start that she was laughing with the guy standing next to her. That’s when the alert I was already on flared and my temper made me a little hot.
She wore an oversized sweater and tights, boots that hit above her knee and a chunky scarf that made her looked like she’d prepared for a hay ride in the country and not a Friday night sitting in front of her T.V. or, whatever it was that crazy chicks like Willow did when they weren’t reading auras and basically messing with the calm of complete strangers.
“So,” the guy said, as he leaned against the wall right next to the elevator. “You think that’ll work for you? Next weekend?”
“Yeah. Sure.” She sounded so excited, so upbeat.
Funny thing about jealousy; it stings a lot more when you’re the one feeling it which made no damn sense in the least. I wanted her out of my hair. I wanted Willow to stop blocking my focus and keep clear of me. From the looks of it, she was working on doing just that. So why the hell did me seeing some burley looking guy that was too pretty to be anything more than a punk standing a little too close to Willow, speaking with a tone that he definitely wouldn’t use if he was hanging with his boys bother me so much? There was too much sweetness in his question, and it made me want to tussle with him until he stayed the hell away from her.
“Alright then, lucita. I’ll see you next weekend.” The asshole nodded at me as he walked away, but I didn’t bother to return the gesture. I was too damn focused on ignoring Willow as she watched me reach in front of her to push the up button.
“Nash?” she said, standing next to me as we waited for the elevator to hit the lobby.
“What’s up?”
I could feel her eyes on me, that cool, calculating stare like the sun against my face, but I took a breath, not looking at her as I pushed down the need to ask her who the hell that guy was and why she’d been talking to him. I hated feeling this way—out of control and unable to handle myself, even if I kept silent. But damn, it bothered me that Willow was getting attention from anyone else - and bothered me even more that it had worked my nerves.
“Nothing’s up,” she said, looking up at the display as the numbers above the elevator got lower and lower. “So I guess you’re still denying the obvious.”
My breath was loud as I exhaled, regretting that I hadn’t taken the stairs the second I spotted Willow in the lobby. But it had been a long night coming back from Roan’s and the lack of sleep and the stress of everything surrounding me had made me exhausted; my body felt like dead weights locking my feet to the tile floor as I stood there.
“Willow, I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh you don’t have to tell me.” She looked to her left and I glanced at her, held back a head shake when she moved her gaze up and down my body. “Your aura is off again.” She waited a beat and I could have timed her next question down to the second. “You want me to…”
“No, I don’t.” I stared down at her, frowning when she looked a little hurt but I was too damn tired to care to much that she hated my answer. “I’m tired. I just wanna crash.”
The elevator bell sounded and I waved Willow in, tired but not a complete ass, and she slipped inside, automatically pressing the buttons for both our floors. The ride up was slow, but then it always was. Mickey didn’t invest too much money in maintenance to anything in the building and the ele
vator was no exception. It was always getting stuck or stopping in the middle of different floors or, if it had been a really long time since it had been serviced, it would take a solid three minutes to move between floors. By how slowly we moved, I figured the ancient elevator was due for an update.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Her voice was slightly breathless. I wanted to ask her about it, urge her on, but couldn’t take the risk.
“Thought you did that the other night.”
She moved next to me, flinging her hair over her shoulder and I caught a whiff of her shampoo. It reminded me of honeysuckle and sweet pea flowers, something I hadn’t been around since I was a kid back in the south.
“You know that wasn’t planned.” She looked down at the end of her loose braid as she raked her fingers through it, unraveling her hard work. “I’m…sorry if I was pushy the other night.” She glanced at me, holding my gaze for a minute longer than I’d intended. “I was, wasn’t I? Pushy, I mean.”
Something in my brain told me to give her something that would take the worry from her eyes, but I was nothing if not stubborn and even though Roan had promised I’d regret being all alone with my money and success, wasn’t ready to give up on that American Dream quite yet. I had to play cool, let her know that I wasn’t interested. But, damn it was hard.
“You were fine. It was late.”
“Nash…” I recognized the tone in her voice. It went all soft and sweet and Willow's hand touched the back of my arm, standing closer than she should, but not close enough for what I wanted, dammit. I closed my eyes, wincing a little when she grabbed my hand. “I think I figured out what…”
But Willow didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. The door slid open, and I stepped through with her right at my heels, trailing behind me, intending no doubt to continue the conversation in my place. But leaning against my door was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was thinner than when I’d seen her last and when she saw me, her smile went megawatt and I sort of forgot about Willow for a second.
“Hey,” she said, glancing between me and Willow, her smile never dimming.
My crazy neighbor dropped my hand like my fingers stung her, and I could feel the tension snap as she stepped away from me. I could have explained. It would have been the decent thing to do, but my jealous ego was still smarting from Willow being chatted up by that flirty Puerto Rican down in the lobby.
I played the prick and decided to take advantage of the situation.
“Hey!” I said in my warmest, most delighted voice, and leaned in to plant a kiss on my visitor’s cheek as I moved to unlock my door. “I’ll see you later,” I tossed over my shoulder to Willow, resisting the temptation to catch her reflection in the hallway mirror next to my door. “Come inside, sweetness…” I trailed off, and ushered the woman inside, not looking back, too much of a coward to watch the look of hurt on Willow’s face.
Nash
“I’ve seen you do some shitty things before, but I gotta say, that was the shittiest.”
Natalie followed me around the living room, her voice lifting as I discarded my keys and wallet on the coffee table. “Ah, Sis, it was perfect timing. It’s better that she think I’m taken.”
“Damn, Nash, is this you pulling that ‘I’m too busy and important’ nonsense? Because, if it is, I gotta say, little brother, that it’s played out as hell. You aren’t the G that you think you are.”
“Nat…”
“I come here to see you because you’ve ignored my phone calls and texts for weeks and here I find you blowing off some pretty young thing that clearly is into you.” I tried to play off the quick jerk of my gaze at my sister, trying to divert that stupid hopeful look I knew was in my eyes, knowing I looked a little too encouraged, a lot too pathetic. “Oh…so I’m right? You want her to be into you?”
I slumped in my recliner, leaning back with my hands covering my face. Natalie sat next to me on the sofa arm rest, waiting. I hated when she did that, like she was so damn convinced I’d unload all my issues on her and wait for her to fix my problem. I didn’t feel like hearing her nag at me, I’d had enough of that for one night from Roan. Instead, I shot for deflection.
“What’s this little brother mess? Little brother, my ass.”
“I came out first.”
“Yeah a whole four minutes before me. That’s doesn’t count.”
Natalie shook her head, ignoring my assertion to glare at me like I’d earned it. “You gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”
“You not here just for me. I know that.”
I never won when we stared each other down, but I tried hard just then, matching my twin glare for glare until she rolled her eyes. “I have a new designer to check out.”
“Uh huh…”
“But I wanted to check up on you too.” She smacked my arm when I shook my head. “Stop changing the subject. You gonna tell me what’s going on with that girl?”
“No.” She should have known better. Things hadn’t changed that much since I last saw her. My twin had been gearing up for a new gig on a sitcom for a major network, doing the set design. By the labels she wore and the jewelry she sported, I got the feeling things were going pretty good. “New purse?” I said, nodding to the Prada bag on her arm.
She smacked me in the arm again, lowering herself onto the sofa when I laughed at her. “Tell me.”
And so, I did. Everything. About Willow and my aura, about the dreams that felt so real, I unloaded everything to my sister just like I’d always done; we’d shared the worst of our drama and not once had we looked down on each other. Wonder Twins and all; that wasn’t just some DC fantasy. Nat was my down-for-whatever sister. My drama was hers and right then all of mine was tied up in Willow.
“You like her.” I shook my head and Nat laughed, reminding me of Roan’s smug ass. “It’s true. You’re very into her.”
“Whatever,” I said, slipping into the hall to grab a pillow and blanket as my sister sat on the coffee table. “I got no time for anyone.” I stripped of my shirt and flopped onto the sofa, watching Nat as she looked me over. “What?”
“We can table this for tomorrow, but for now, I gotta tell you something.”
She had that worried, shifty eye thing happening, something that always told me that bad news was coming. Nat had gotten the same look on her face when she told me our father had contacted her when he got out of prison, and when she had gotten pregnant and didn’t plan on keeping the baby. Bad news always followed that look.
“Damn, Nat…what the hell is it?”
She adjusted on the table, tapping her index fingers together, a nervous annoying habit she had. “Hear me out, okay?”
I sat up, pulling my feet on the floor while I held the pillow over my lap. “Are you pregnant again?”
“What? Oh God, Nash, really?” She flipped the bird at me scowling a little. “Your nephew is the only one I’m gonna have, ever. You know this and he’s happy with his parents in New Orleans, okay? Give me a little credit for learning from past behavior.”
“Alright, my bad.” I tossed the pillow to my side and waited. When she only looked at me, I folded my arms, clearing my throat. “Just come out and…”
“I’ve been spending time with…Dad. For about a year now.”
Something loosened in my chest; it felt hot and bitter, stung as I took in a long breath. Natalie watched me close, her eyes cautious, concerned. She had spoken to the man responsible for our mother’s death. The asshole who took everything away from us.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
We sat there for a few seconds watching, waiting as the threat of an argument moved around us like a fog, choking every good thought, every emotion that would make me admit how much I’d missed her. This was a game changer, something I couldn’t easily stomach.
“Before you start getting all worked up and yell at me, I’ll tell you he was in treatment on the inside. He’s been sober thirteen years, Na
sh and he’d got his GED while he was locked up and is working on his Bachelor’s at a community college out in San Francisco.”
Nat stopped tapping her fingers and had instead taken up a little bounce with her knee, moving without knowing she was doing it, nervously watching me as I let her words sink in.
Finally, when she stopped moving her knee, I sat back, hand on the back of my head because it felt like the only thing that would ground me to the earth. “And?” I spit out.
“And what?” I tilted my head, glaring at my sister until she stood, slipping off her shoes and moving them next to her purse at the bar. “You gonna give him shit for trying to better himself or me shit for wanting to have a relationship?”
“Hell yes.”
“My God, Nash, he was sick. Addiction is an illness like cancer or diabetes.”
“Except, when you get cancer, it’s only your life that’s in danger.”
“Nash…”
“He killed her, Nat.”
“He did. And he’s sorry for that. He really is. But nothing he can do now will bring her back. We have to come to terms with that.”
I shook my head, ready to yell, to scream until she saw reason, but I knew better. Natalie was bullheaded. If she latched onto something or someone it stuck. Even, I guessed, if it was the man who took our mother from us both.
“You can’t just forget…”
“No, you can’t but sugar, you have to learn to forgive.” Nat’s voice was strong, but she didn’t yell. It was a calm tone, something she’d perfected when we were kids and temper and anxiety had turned me into a bad seed. It was her nurturing way, and that firm, confident tone never failed to pull me back from the edge. But this wasn’t me buckling to peer pressure from asshole kids putting on me to lift beer from a convenience store cooler. This was the man I’d always hated inching his way back into my sister’s life.
Still, Nat adopted that tone and just the sound of it had me tamping down my anger. She leaned forward, taking my hand. “You’ve got yourself all twisted up over the stuff that happened to us. You’re still letting it rule your life.”